


Hi, Everyone

by Fluencca



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (basically), Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Feels, vague character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 15:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluencca/pseuds/Fluencca
Summary: An imagined meeting between Peter Parker and (some of) the rest of the Avengers, post Civil War. This is more-or-less canon compliant, if you can pretend that there were a few days or weeks, and not minutes, between Bruce's warning and the invasion.





	Hi, Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Infinity War Fix-Its are all the rage, but there are still tons of unsaid things that just needed to be aired out after Civil War, and my mind just wouldn't let it go, even after seeing IW. 
> 
> Because, poor Tony. He gets the fuzzy end of every lollipop he's ever offered, and I need to acknowledge it, at least in my own brain. 
> 
> This is not the most innovative Peter&Tony fic you've ever read, but my brain just needed to get all of this out.

“Tony, we _have_ to bring him in on this.” Steve’s tone was getting more urgent, and Tony wondered how many more times they’d have to go through this.

“Nope,” he replied, and kept twirling the pen in his hand.

Steve took a deep breath, and tried again.

“I get it, you think he’s too young, but he handled himself just fine in—“

“Nopers,” Tony cut him off and, still twirling the pen, sat back in his swivel chair at the head of the conference room table. He was trying to keep it light, but his tone was becoming clipped, the words deliberately enunciated.

Everyone around the table took in an exasperated breath at the same time. Tensions were running high as it was, with the Thanos threat looming over them. It had taken him and Rogers about 40 seconds to call a truce after the current crisis presented itself, courtesy of Bruce. The media—hell, the government, for that matter—thought they were here to hash out a version of the Accords for Rogers to sign, but nothing was farther from either of their minds. They were trying to outline what kind of defense the Avengers could muster in the time it would take Thanos’ ships to arrive. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, they both agreed. But Steve refused to understand that spider-hands were simply not included.

And Tony knew Steve well enough to know that he wouldn’t let it go. He may even try and approach the kid, on his own. Tony had run through all his options, but he always came to the same conclusion: he’d have to reveal Spider-Man’s identity before the others would be convinced that he was _not to be_ brought in on this Thanos thing. So before the meeting he had insisted that they clear the compound, leaving only a select few Avengers present. Rogers had tried to fight him on it, but Tony could be an obstinate asshole when it mattered, and now it mattered: no Bucky Barnes, no Wanda, no Scott Whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was with the _dry-clean-only_ suit. No one Tony himself didn’t trust implicitly.

And after an hour of debates that had gained him no ground, he’d been forced to send Happy to go get the kid. He hated being so right all the time.

“I hate to sound like a broken record, man, but I agree with Cap,” Sam said, from where he leaned against the wall. He shrugged, then added, “We need him, this is big.”

Tony swiveled in his chair, taking in the entire conference room, then looking up at the ceiling. “And I love sounding like a broken record, but I’m telling you _no._ I know this is serious, but that’s exactly why _we_ need to handle this,” Tony said, gesturing at the people gathered in the room.

Natasha and Clint looked uncomfortably at one another and then at Rhodey, pointedly. He shook his head, Natasha glared.

“Tony,” he started, and he could tell by his very calm, very placating tone that he was going to side against him.

“What do you think I was doing when I was, what? 22? Younger, even? You brought him to Germany. To fight Captain America, and Falcon, the Winter Soldier. You must know he’s an asset.”

Tony looked at him pensively for a moment, opened his mouth to address the issues he raised, but instead settled on a simple, “Nuh-uh,” as he pointed at him. His tone relayed that really, what else was there to say?

Rhodes threw his hands up, his head tilted in impatience. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

“Nuh-uh infinity?”

“Oh, my God, are we in high-school?”

Tony looked at his watch, and thankfully, _thankfully,_ he was going to be able to settle this soon. Happy should be back any minute now.

“Listen, man,” Clint started, but Tony cut him off.

“No.” Tony kicked his chair around for another swivel.

“We need—“

“Nien.” He went around again.

“To look at the bigger picture here—”

“Nyet.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“I regretted it immediately,” Tony said, sincerely.

“But,” he continued, standing up and turning towards the door, “don’t worry. We’ll settle this now.”

He opened the door just as Happy was about to knock, Spider-Man just pulling on his mask a few steps behind him.

“Underoos! Come on in, the water’s great.” He moved aside, and gestured Spider-Man into the room.

He hated what he was about to do. He wished Peter could keep his secret forever. But it was the only way to convince _them_ not to drag him into this war.

He really hated being so fucking right all the time.

~*~

Happy wasn’t very talkative on the ride over. All he told Peter was to suit up, because the boss wanted him to meet some of the Avengers.

It was enough to get Peter very excited. But Happy wouldn’t or couldn’t answer if it was a mission, if he was going on the mission if there was one, who else would be there, is Captain America really back like they said on the news, and would he need to f—

The partition went up slowly, and didn’t come back down for the rest of the ride.

But that was okay. Peter needed to change, anyway, and he had plenty to think about on the way upstate. Like how he’d introduce himself. Something like, _So what are we Avenging today?_ Or, _Fancy meeting you here._ Yeah, that was good. He really needed to make a good first impression. Mature. Cool. Someone they’d want going on missions with them.

When the car pulled up in front of the compound, Peter realized he’d forgotten how big it was.

“Wow,” he said, as he got out of the car, his mask in hand. He began to pull it over his head, but the place was deserted.

They took a right just inside the entrance, and Happy led him to wide, heavy-looking wooden doors. He glanced back to make sure that Peter was following him, and stopped in his tracks. “Kid? Mask?” He said, gesturing vaguely at his own head.

Oh, yeah. “Sorry, Happy,” Peter said, and he pulled the mask down over his face as Happy raised his hand to knock. But before his knuckles connected, the doors swung open. Peter hastily pulled at the mask with the hand not holding his backpack, giving it one final adjustment.

Mr. Stark was standing in the doorway, wearing a suit jacket over a t-shirt that looked worn-out in a brand-new sort of way. Peter could see five or six people in the room behind him.

“Underoos! Come on in, the water’s great.”

Peter’s heart fluttered. He felt that he couldn’t breathe deeply enough while being discreet about it. This was it. He was officially meeting the Avengers as a fellow super-hero. He stepped into the room, certain that everyone could hear how hard his heart was pounding. He saw Black Widow and Hawkeye sitting together on one side of the table, Captain America and Colonel Rhodes opposite them. Falcon leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room. He wondered where everyone else was.

“Hi, everyone!” He said, brightly, waving a little. Oh, _crap._ He had practiced and practiced in the car, and then that slipped out. Again.

He turned to look at Mr. Stark, not exactly sure what to do, next. Luckily, it seemed that Mr. Stark was ready to take control.

“Everyone, this is Spider-Man,” he said, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Spider-Man, looking good in that suit, I must say. We’re here discussing our next mission. It’s going to be dangerous. But they all think you’re ready.” His tone was pleasant, and Peter thought it might be just a bit _too_ pleasant. Almost sing-songy.

Peter was never so thankful for his mask. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out. The Avengers _were_ impressed with him! He knew he’d done good work in Germany, but this… This was proof.

“I am ready, Mr. Stark! What’s the mission?”

“Not so fast.” Mr. Stark was looking straight at him, and it felt as though Mr. Stark could see his eyes right through the mask. The change in tone was the sound of the other shoe dropping.

“I think,” Mr. Stark said, “that if you’re going to be part of the team, then the team needs to know who you are. Full disclosure, and what have you.”

Peter’s fluttering heart dropped to his stomach. The room seemed to get a little smaller, his suit a little too tight. He was suddenly very aware of his hands, and what he should be doing with them. No. The more people knew who he was, the more danger he, and his family, would be in. He couldn’t do that to May. He _wouldn’t._ Peter opened his mouth to argue, but he barely got a sound out. Mr. Stark had anticipated his objections.

“I know—I know you need to keep you identity a secret. And I know why. But you can trust every single person in this room. Some of them were on the other side of the battle last time, but everyone here would die before they betrayed your secret. Guys?” Mr. Stark turned minutely, one hand on his chin, the elbow held in the opposite hand. He made eye-contact with every other adult in the room, only his eyes moving from person to person. Peter was glad he wasn’t at the receiving end of that stare. It looked loaded.

“You can tell _no-one_ ,” Mr. Stark said, and his gaze landed on Captain America. “Not even your pal Bucky, Rogers. If the kid needs to keep his identity a secret to protect his family, we can’t risk that.”

If Captain America was offended at being singled out, he didn’t show it. “Understood, Tony,” he said. “And Spider-Man,” he quickly amended, speaking directly to Peter.

“I think I speak for everyone here,” he too glanced around the room, “when I say that your secret will be safe with us.” Everyone nodded from where they sat or stood. Captain America continued.

“We Avengers may have had our differences, and we fought for them, hard. But we would never betray the trust of a fell—“

“Oh, my Thor! Uch,” Mr. Stark said, rolling his eyes. “Enough with the PSAs, Cap.”

Then he turned to Peter, and Peter felt his heart race again, heat rising from his chest towards his neck. He was blinking too quickly, as though he could slow down time to better process what was happening. Because he desperately needed a little more time. It felt like Mr. Stark was going to—

“Time to choose, kid.” Mr. Stark looked at Peter with intense calm from where he stood.

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. He raised both hands now, as though putting up a barrier between him and Mr. Stark.

“You can’t fight with us anonymously. That’s not the way a team works, kid. But you can still turn around, keep the suit and the secret, and go back to being the Spider-Man who stands up for the little guy.” Mr. Stark closed a bit of the distance between them, looking at Peter right in the eye, somehow, through the mask. He sounded almost… Pleading?

Peter made an effort to slow his breathing. He knew he wanted to fight with the Avengers. He knew that if they were asking for his help, they needed it. But most of all he knew that he trusted Mr. Stark. If he says that these people would keep his secret…

He pulled off his mask.

The room, which was quiet before, became deathly still. Everyone just stared. Peter’s eyes darted around the room, his ears pounding with blood that was rushing… _everywhere_ too quickly. It had been a while since he heard so much quiet. The silence stretched on a moment longer, and then the room erupted.

Questions, accusations and insults were hurled at Mr. Stark. Everyone was shouting _did you know_ at everyone. Suddenly they were all standing around the table, shouting, and pointing, and gesturing at Peter and banging on the table to punctuate. Mr. Stark was yelling back, trying to answer but getting cut off before he could get through half an explanation, and again. It was like a school-assembly gone wrong.

Which gave Peter an idea. He reached down and grabbed his phone from his backpack, and pulled up the app that interfaced with Karen. Ned helped him with the software. He technically needed to hack the suit, again, to make sure the code would work on Peter’s cell, but Peter hoped Mr. Stark wouldn’t mind. It was for a good cause.

_Karen, can you communicate with the Karen of this place?_

Barely a moment after he’d sent his message, his phone buzzed.

_The primary AI of the compound is Mr. Stark’s assistant, FRIDAY. Yes, I can communicate with her._

_Can you ask her to do me a favor?_ Peter glanced up at the room, but everyone was still yelling.

He finished typing just in time to hear Captain America say, “And of course. As though to prove my point, he’s message-texting right now!”

Wow, that was unfair. They were all shouting at one another like the kids at school arguing over whether _13 Reasons Why_ or _Riverdale_ was the better show, and he gets heat for texting?

Mr. Stark seemed to think so, too, because he began saying about how that’s so far beside point, when an enormous _DING_ sounded, like before a Costco announcement. A booming voice—Peter assumed it was FRIDAY—followed.

“All Avengers are kindly requested to take their seats. Spider-Man would like to remind you that he is young, not deaf, and still in the room. You are free to ask him whatever you’d like. Also Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

The Avengers, all standing now, looked at Peter. He rubbed his neck, a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, everyone. And sorry Mr. Stark,” Peter added urgently, looking to where the older man stood, near Captain America. “I hope it’s okay I asked Karen to ask FRIDAY to make that announcement. But… this,” he gestured at the grownups around the table, “was getting out of hand.”

He paused for a minute, but no one made an effort to take over. Looks like he was doing this. If only his voice wouldn’t fluctuate so much with nerves. It made him sound 13, like an actual _kid_.

“First of all, hi, again. I’m Peter. Parker. I’m from Queens, and I became Spider-Man about a year ago. It’s a long story,” he added, hoping to stave off questions about the origin of his powers. He honestly found it boring to tell.

Luckily, it seemed like the assembled people didn’t care, either. Falcon, now taking a seat at the table, asked instead, “How old are you, Peter?”

“I’m 16. Well, almost. In a few weeks.”

Captain America rubbed both his hand along his face, his eyes up at the ceiling. Peter thought he was about to say something, but he just shook his head.

Hawkeye raised his hand, as though they were in class.

“Yeah?” Peter prompted, eagerly. He knew that if he got a chance to explain himself, they’d be able to see past his age.

Hawkeye straightened in his seat. “I have a question for Tony.” He turned to look at him. His eyes were burning.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” He asked.

“How could you even let us entertain the idea of bringing a _child_ into this? How could you drag him to Leipzig?”

Falcon spoke up, then. “And what about the webs? And that suit? They Stark Industries written all over them, Stark. You’re giving this kid everything he needs to get himself killed.”

Hawkeye nodded emphatically, then resumed speaking. “For someone who signed the Accords, you’re playing awfully fast and loose with this kid’s life, and he’s probably even too young to understand _why_. I thought you quit _that_ business.”

“Clint,” Black Widow said, her tone shocked. Peter was glad, because none of that was true. None of it.

“Hey,” he said, looking directly at Clint and narrowing his eyes a bit. But Clint was a little scary, so he didn’t hold his gaze. He powered through, though.

“The webs are mine. And quit with calling me _child_ like that. I’m fifteen, not five. Mr. Stark made me the suit months way _after_ I became Spider-Man. And he didn’t drag me anywhere. I went to Germany because I thought he was right. In fact, _I_ told _him_ that the reason I became Spider-Man in the first place was accountability. I get it that what happened in Lagos was an accident, but when you can do what we can do, “sorry” just doesn’t cut it. They were just regular people. Their lives mattered.”

Peter fell silent, not sure where to look. By the end he wasn’t even talking to Clint. He didn’t mean to say that last bit, and he certainly didn’t mean to say it directly to Captain America’s face. But he read the scared Tweets of the people who were in that explosion, and he was not going to let _anyone_ insinuate that he fought on the side of the Accords because he was fanboying Mr. Stark.

He risked a glance up, and quickly looked down again, not sure where to look.

But Captain America wasn’t angry. He was still just trying to explain why Peter, and Mr. Stark, were wrong with his irritatingly calm voice.

“I get it, kid. But you have to understand that Wanda was just trying to protect me. She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, she was genuinely just scared from that bomb.”

Now Peter looked up, and maintained eye-contact as he took a few steps closer to the table. Because he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He felt his hands curl into fists.

“So Avengers’ Lives Matter More? That’s your defense?”

Captain America opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked to Mr. Stark, who thankfully stepped in.

 “Oooh-kay, Peter. Thanks, for that rousing defense,” Mr. Stark said, and shooed him back a little.  He stood next to Peter, a little in front of him, at the head of the table. He leaned forward with both hands on the expensive wood.

“But back to the issue at hand—Barton, Germany, that, that was different, alright? It’s not the same. Come on, you know that you weren’t shooting to kill. And Cap, neither were you. Neither was I, for that matter. We all know that. That battle was about gaining ground, not annihilation. Thanos,” he paused, looked up at the ceiling, then at each of the other people in the room. He made another start to speak, but stopped. He tried again.

“Thanos won’t pull his punches. And may I remind you that that’s why I didn’t want Spider-Man to be on the front lines of this.”

“Fuck Thanos, Stark,” Captain America finally said, and he was… Peter wasn’t sure. He wasn’t exactly angry, but he wasn’t calm, either. He’d have guessed pained, if it wasn’t, well, Captain America.

“You sent in a teenager to fight the Winter Soldier? You had _me_ beat up on a 15 year old kid! Christ, Stark, I dropped a goddamned airport terminal on his head!” Captain America was shouting by the end, and everyone shrunk back, a little. Now he _was_ angry, no doubt about it.

“Tried, to,” Peter whispered.

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

Captain American and Mr. Stark spoke on either side of him, at the same time.

“It’s just, you _tried_ to drop the terminal on my head? I caught…” He raised both his hands to shoulder level, as though to demonstrate _catching,_ but the words caught in his throat as he realized they were all looking at him. “… it?” His voice trailed off.

And just like that, the tension in the room broke. Mr. Stark laughed, and reached back to clap him on the shoulder. Captain America stifled an incredulous laugh, and said, “In Brooklyn we call that chutzpah, kid.”

Peter smiled, relieved. He did not enjoy how tense that exchange between Mr. Stark and Captain America had become, and he was sorry he’d started it.

“Besides,” Mr. Stark said, “I reviewed the input to Peter’s suit, Cap. I’m pretty sure that technically I had a 15 year old kid beat up on _you.”_

Peter looked down, trying to hide his grin. He was kinda glad someone had noticed that he held his own against Captain America, who seemed a bit chagrined at the reminder. But before he could say anything, Flacon spoke up. “Did you happen to review the _output_ , too? Kid’s a chatterbox.”

“Oh, my God, yes,” Black Widow said, and every single person in the room echoed her, agreeing whole-heartedly with Falcon’s assessment.

~*~

Tony wasn’t sure how he always ended up at the receiving end of everyone’s crap. The uproar when Peter pulled off his mask would have been comical, if it weren’t for five very angry Avengers turning all their avenging ire at _him_. Did they all forget they were clamoring to set the kid on Thanos not 10 minute ago?

But then he watched the kid get control of the room (and he’d have to see how he’d done that, because that was definitely _not_ a parameter he’d written for his AI), and the slightly angry humor he’d felt became something else. Because it had been a long time since someone defended him like that. Like they knew he’d been right, for the right reasons. Like they trusted his motives. Like they trusted him. Had anyone done that since Yinsin?

But then he began defending the Accords, and shit if he wasn’t doing a better job than Tony had been able to in the year since they were first suggested. Maybe he was onto something with this high-school recruiting thing. Did kids no longer think news was boring?

But it was time to get this discussion back on track, and hopefully the kid back in Queens before the Thanos shit hit the fan. If one good thing had to come from forcing the kid to out himself, so to speak, he hoped it would be his safety.

He tried to explain that to the others, but it seemed that Steve was still on the Germany thing.

“Fuck Thanos, Stark,” Steve said, and he had a look that Tony knew well. It was guilt. Overpowering guilt. Tony was a little pleased to see it. He’d been afraid that Rogers had just sidestepped that emotion entirely.

“You sent in a teenager to fight the Winter Soldier? You had _me_ beat up on a 15 year old kid! Christ, Stark, I dropped a goddamned airport terminal on his head!” Rogers shouted, and even Tony found himself taking a small step back. He raised a hand to his jaw to rub an injury that was no longer there, the bruise left by a Vibranium shield making contact, _hard_.

Tony saw that Steve caught the movement, and he held his breath.

“Tried, to,” Peter whispered.

 “Excuse me?” Tony said, and he heard Rogers say something to the same effect from where he sat. He was grateful again for the kid. He didn’t want to hash this out with Rogers just now. He didn’t think he could take another fight like that.

The kid was looking at Captain America, and there was no sense of anything but utter honesty when he spoke.

“It’s just, you _tried_ to drop the terminal on my head? I caught… it?” he said, raising his hands above his head.

Tony could hug him. He would hug him. No, he probably wouldn’t, but he’d definitely give him a pass on hacking a multimillion dollar suit for the _second time_. Because just like _that_ , he broke the room, and it felt like the air was flowing again. It felt like he wouldn’t lose them all again, now, on the eve of the end of the world. He clapped the kid on the shoulder.

And the kid wasn’t wrong, either. When Tony reviewed the fight from Peter’s input recorders, he’d been surprised. He knew Peter had movez-with-a-Z, but the YouTube clips hadn’t prepared him for everything the kid was capable of. His creative thinking aside, he _had_ caught the jet bridge, and taking on the Winter Soldier _and_ Sam didn’t seem to faze him.

But none of that made it any easier to breathe when he’d seen the kid knocked to the ground from three stories up. It didn’t do anything to slow Tony’s heart when he remembered the kid’s still form on that airfield, or what he’d been certain was dead weight in that river, or when he saw the wreckage of his plane… Peter’s skills didn’t make it any easier to fathom the thought that he’d gotten this good kid from Queens killed.

Even if he did stop Barnes’ metal arm with such ease it barely broke his stride. Or his conversation.

“You all noticed that? I thought it was only me,” Tony said, and the kid shot him a look of such utter betrayal that again Tony briefly entertained hugging him later.

But for now, he had to ensure the kid _had_ a ‘later.’

He put his hands in his pockets, and turned to the kid.

“This is where I apologize, Parker, because I’ve been playing dirty pool.” He shrugged a little bit, as the kid’s eyes widened a bit. Like he couldn’t imagine Tony playing at dirty anything. Ha.

“I actually asked you to come here so you could _not_ join us on this mission. The others needed some convincing,” Tony said, and he swiveled his body to indicate the others. They were again looking a little shifty.

“This guy we’re up against, he doesn’t take prisoners, Pete, and I can’t put you on the front lines of that. It’s—“ He took a step closer to Peter, and shushed him with a swipe of his hand. He could tell he was about to argue.

“It’s not about your abilities. We all know you might very well be the strongest person in the room. Hell, you might even be the smartest—”

A small voice interjected, “Who are you, and what have you done with Stark?”

“—Shut up, Clint.” Tony said, barely sparing him a glance. He really needed the kid to understand. Because Tony knew he couldn’t force him. He put both hands on Peter’s shoulders, and squeezed a little through the suit. Please, God, let him _get_ it.

“You might be the best chance the Earth has, once you’re all grown up. But for that to happen, you have to get grown up. We don’t risk kids, Peter, not if we can help it.”

He held the kid’s glance for as long as he dared, before it would become creepy. He saw Peter swallow, blink, and give tiny little nods, his arms wrapped around himself. Tony hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was getting through.

“Guys?” He said, letting go of Peter, and inviting the others to chime in. Some of that moral outrage could go a long way, right now.

Steve spoke first. “Tony’s right, Queens. You’ll get your chance to fight, but not this time. You’re still a kid, you should spend whatever time you can enjoying that. Play games and jump rope and watch Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck go at it.”

Tony had never seen the kid so openly confused. 

“Whaat?” Peter said, laughing a little, arms still folded across his waist.

Rogers looked around the table now, a little confused. “Is that not what kids do, today? Mickey Mouse is still around, I saw that for a fact!”

“They don’t watch Mickey Mouse, Cap,” Clint said, shaking his head a bit. “More like Paw Patrol, maybe.”

Peter just shook his head.

“But,” Clint continued, leaning forward, and for once in his life, he was dead serious. Tony exhaled, slowly, hopefully. “But Cap’s not wrong. Just because you have certain… abilities, doesn’t mean they’re ours to use, to save our own asses. I vote you sit this one out, kid. Sorry,” he added, but he sat back and crossed his arms deliberately. It was a dad-move, par excellence.

Natasha took her cue to speak up as soon as Clint sat back. “Thanos is bigger than anything we’ve ever dealt with, but if we’re talking accountability… I’m sorry, Parker. But you’re part of that. I supported the Accords, and I can’t agree to throwing teenagers at Thanos, just in case they might slow him down. I have enough dead kids on my conscience.”

Her words were somber, but Tony was glad for it. He felt the same way.

Wilson, on his part, still looked a little skeptical, but he had nodded when the others spoke. Tony counted that as a vote to his side.

Tony looked back to Peter, who was still a little wrapped around himself. He was looking at a spot on the table, not making eye contact with anyone who spoke.

“I don’t mean this to be rude, and Mr. Stark, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but…” He looked up, and the resolution in his eye was steel.

“You’re not the decider of me.”

Tony raised a single eyebrow.

“Okay, I know how that sounds, it was a stupid joke. But what I mean is that I’m not Spider-Man because of your permission. We kinda settled that last time, no? Tough love? If I can help against this bad guy who won’t pull his punches, who is the biggest threat you’ve ever faced, but I don’t, and then bad things happen…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. Tony already knew how it ended. _Then it’s my fault._

Tony looked at the kid, wishing he had something to say. Wishing he had some counter argument.

It was Rhodes who broke the silence.

“Tony… and Peter, I don’t want to see you hurt, any more than the others.”

Rhodes kept his eyes on the table as he spoke, his tone tentative, as though he was still thinking through his position as he voiced it aloud.

“But Tony, he saved my life in Leipzig. Before… This,” he gestured at his legs, bent neatly into their braces.

“I would have been an airplane pancake if he hadn’t been there, Tone.” He looked up, his eyes pained. “If he can help save lives, even just as back up, we owe it to everyone else, who’ll be there fighting. He should at least get a vote.”

Tony hated how the kid lit up at this unexpected support. He hated that it made sense to him. And he hated that on this one thing, that on his gamble that outing the kid’s age would be a surefire way of keeping him safe, he’d been wrong. And he couldn’t afford to insist, not now, with Thanos on the horizon.

So Tony could only run his hand across his mouth and stare out the window a little helplessly, because that was the last thing he wanted to hear. If given a vote, the kid would say _yes_. Enthusiastically. And especially if the request came from Tony’s team. Fuck, he’d probably say _sure thing, Mr. Stark!_ if he asked nicely to take both his kidneys. Which meant that Tony’d have to play dirty, again. He’d design a new suit, with redundancies built upon redundancies to keep the kid where he needed to be. Away from the fight. He’d do it today.

“Mr. Stark, I really appreciate it that you want to keep me safe. All of you,” Peter said, addressing the others. “But this is my fight, too. If you say _no_ now I’ll just cling to your plane when you go,” Peter added, and those assembled around the table laughed again.

“Don’t,” Tony said, extending his open hands and crossing them. “Don’t legitimize him. That’s not hyperbole. He’s done that.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then everyone burst out with questions, once again.

~*~

In the end, it was decided that he’d join the Avengers, when the time came, as a fully-fledged member of the team. He’d stick to sidelines, though, offering support where he could, or a literal safety net where possible.

He’d take it. And if the opportunity to do more presented itself … Well, Peter would cross that bridge when he got to it. And probably burn it after him.

After Mr. Stark called an end to the meeting everyone stood up and began chatting with a little more lightness than they had, before. For the first time, they seemed to Peter to be one team.

But there was something Captain America had said, early in the meeting that was still bugging him. After all his talk about accountability, it would be a little cruel not to correct him. He slung his backpack onto his shoulders, and went over to where the man was chatting with Falcon, Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes talking quietly behind them.

“Um, excuse me, Captain Rogers,” He said, and suddenly unsure what to do with his hands, he hung onto the shoulder straps of his backpack.

“Yeah, Queens?”

“Um, it’s just, oh, this might be stupid, but it’s just before, when you said I was ‘message-texting’ during the meeting?”

Captain America seemed to understand immediately. He smiled and tilted his head down, towards Peter.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, kiddo. I’m not gonna get you in trouble,” he said, and he sounded to Peter almost like Flash. And Captain America wasn’t done.

He slapped Falcon on the chest with the back of his hand, and added, “Kids today are such goody two-shoes, right?”

Peter kept his smile in place, and if anything it got a little brighter. He opened his eyes a little wider, and dialed up his _aw, shucks,_ factor. It was a performance he usually saved only when begging for sleepovers on school nights. May could always see right through it, but he had a feeling Steve Rogers wouldn’t.

“Oh, it’s not that, Mister, uh, Captain America, sir. It’s just that people don’t really say ‘message-texting.’ It sounds weird.”

“Oh!” Captain America said, and he laughed a little, but he looked a embarrassed. Peter almost felt bad.

“Yeah. I mean, I just thought I’d let you know. We use, like, a contraction, of _send_ and _text._ For short we just say _sext.”_

Peter could tell that Mr. Stark had overheard him, because his head snapped up behind Captain America, and he actually snorted, a little.

Beside Captain America, Falcon’s eyes bugged a little, his head jerking forward in a move that looked almost involuntarily to Peter.

But all he said was, “Yeah, the kid’s right, Cap. We definitely say _sext._ ” His voice showed no trace of a joke.

Peter nodded earnestly.

“Okay. Thanks, Queens.”

“Sure thing, Captain America, Sir,” Peter smiled, and turned to leave. Happy was already waiting for him by the door.

Before he could make it there, though, he felt an arm around his shoulder. “Nicely played, kid,” Mr. Stark said, and Peter finally allowed himself a small laugh. It was amazing how _kid_ didn’t sound so… little when Mr. Stark said it.

Then, loudly, Mr. Stark said, “Okay, everyone, you all know where you need to be. I’ll sext everyone details as soon as we know them.” A small movement of the eyes and an almost imperceptible nod towards Captain America ensured he got only raised eyebrows from Black Widow, and a knowing smile from Clint.

“Except for you Pete,” Mr. Stark added, and it almost felt like the arm around his shoulder gave a little squeeze.

“You’re a minor, so I’ll sext your aunt, instead.”

“Ugh, you’re ruining it, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, but he only half-meant it.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder as though to send him on his way, and Peter went, smiling. Whatever this Thanos guy brought, he knew he could handle it. He was an Avenger now, and he’d make Tony Stark proud.

**Author's Note:**

> A note on a few of my choices: 
> 
> 1\. Peter doesn't know the not-so-secret identities of the Avengers. He likely knows them only by their "invented names."  
> 2\. I love a "needy Peter/Iron Dad" fic just as much as the next person, cause those are best. But at the same time, 15 year old kids today (or ever, maybe) aren't balls of unmitigated need just waiting for the next cry. They have astute opinions, real understanding, and they're sharp. That's the teen aspect I was going for in this. I hope it carries over.
> 
> Comments, critiques, corrections, and comments are always welcome!


End file.
